


Blood and A Choice

by Mserio



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Difficult Decisions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mserio/pseuds/Mserio
Summary: Catra sees Adora as a sworn enemy, but when her life is in her hands, what choice will she make? Can she be strong enough to discard of her best friend, once and for all? Is she strong enough not to?orCatra faces a tough choice, and her decision will reflect who she really is. This takes place somewhere between season 2 and 4, when Adora and Catra are still in the rocky, "enemy" stage of their relationship.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Blood and A Choice

The battle, being fought in a red-stone gorge near the edge of the Crimson Waste, is going exceedingly well for Catra. The Horde has finally caught the Rebellion off-guard, trapping them in the steep canyons of the Waste with no easy escape. It is the first successful attack the Horde has made in months, and Catra is sure nothing can ruin it. That is until one of Entrapta’s bots explodes unexpectedly, creating a snapshot of fire and rubble in the corner of her vision. She feels the propulsion of the explosion cut through the air and slam into her body, flinging her into the canyon wall with the force of train.  
Pain cuts through the base of her skull, unseen objects pummel her left and right, and her vision goes dark, leaving her blind and under the impending crash and crumble of boulders and dust. She curls into a ball, grabbing her head for protection, listening to the grind of debris grow fainter. When the pain in her head subsides, and she’s sure she can feel her pulse, she opens her eyes to orange-tinted dark. Large boulders surround her in intimidating immobility, as if they had existed to trap her in a dark cavern. The darkness is punctuated by spears of light, shining through the many crevices of the landslide.  
Catra stands, wiping the grit from her eyes and checking her body. She’ll have bruises to last a lifetime, but amazingly she’s alive and whole. Assured by her own steady heart, she fully analyzes her situation, and her eyes notice an escape, a hole of light just big enough for her to squeeze through, and her ears notice something else, a groan of pain, not coming from her.  
It comes from the ground, and reveals a dreaded familiarity. In the rubble, pinned by rocks and unconscious, lies Adora. Adora, who she was fighting. Adora who had left her to be the hero. Adora who made unbidden feelings arrest her heart.  
She is no longer in her She-Ra form, but something tells Catra her de-transformation was not her choice.  
A wound, large and jagged, cuts across Adora’s side, gushing blood at an alarming rate. Immediately, Catra’s brain comes up with two options, leaving her with blood and a choice.  
Her first option leads her to safety and greatness.

She could climb her way out of the deadly landslide, and rise victorious in the golden, setting sun of a hero. Adora would die, bleed out before her precious friends could reach her. The hero, the savior She-Ra would be gone. The Princess Alliance would crumble like the rocks she had perished in, and the Horde would finally claim victory over all of Etheria.  
Catra would return to the Fright Zone, a hero in her comrades’ eyes. She would be promoted to general, maybe even be given her own expanse of Etheria to rule and govern. She would finally reach her potential with Adora and her treachery finally out of the way. Scorpia would clap her on the back, with a thousand “Good jobs!” and a thousand more hugs. But would she be able to scrounge up the pride she would fake? She would try to summon it with all her strength, but only bitter guilt and sadness would rise.  
She would sneak away from the Fright Zone one night, and follow the trail of mournful lanterns that had been released into the sky, until she reached the now decimated kingdom of Brightmoon. She would watch, as Adora’s idiot friends wept over her body and dug an unmarked grave. She would watch her childhood best friend, the girl she thought she would rule the world with, slowly be covered by piles of dirt.  
The sadness inside her would grow, and the guilt would be unbearable, as the arrow boy wailed and the sparkle girl fumed. They would never know that the tears on Catra’s face ran twice as hard and four times as deep, cutting down to her heart. She wouldn’t be proud. No. She would cry and mourn, but she would also regret. She would regret more than she ever had in her life, bringing to light the horrid realization of why it hurt so much.

A shift in the rocks brings Catra back to her choice and a lot more blood.

She could leave and live out her first option to its painful extent, leaving Adora, her Adora, to perish. But she couldn’t. She never could.  
So she kneels beside Adora, and watches as her hands work on their own accord, pressuring the wound and using scraps of singed cloth from Adora’s jacket and her own to staunch the slowing flow of blood. For how long, she doesn’t know, Catra kneels with her hands firmly pressed to Adora’s side.  
At one point, Adora’s eyes flutter open, and her hand finds Catra’s, gripping it weakly for support. Shock pulses through her veins at Adora’s touch, closing her throat and bringing stinging tears to her eyes. For a second, Catra allows the action to continue, pretending that all between them has vanished. Pretending for a blissful moment that she and Adora were best friends again. Cadets together. Catra and Adora, inseparable.  
Then, the moment ends, and Catra swats her hand away with a grunt. The chasm of resent and indifference expands, pulling the two away from each other, but thankfully numbing the raw swell of emotion that had prickled at the back of Catra’s throat.  
Adora lifts her head and tries to say something, but all that comes out is a dry croak. Her eyes are fogged by pain and confusion, but Catra still sees the spark of recognition before she can stop it. Again, Adora fruitlessly tries to say something, but Catra doesn’t need to hear her voice to know that her name has fallen from her lips.  
A worried, searching cry sounds from outside the landslide, and Catra barely recognizes it as that arrow boy’s voice. He’s yelling for Adora, and it only takes a second of indecision for Catra to call back.  
She screams for help, trying to mask the familiar tones of her voice, and bites her lip impatiently. Finally, someone outside starts to shift the rocks, screaming frantically that help was on the way.  
She stands, pulling her hands from Adora’s side, and wipes the blood onto her pants. The once rapid flow of blood has stopped thanks to Catra’s efforts. Adora would be fine.  
So, she leaves.  
She climbs through the hole that could have held a very different future, and leaves before the rebellion can spot her near an injured She-Ra.

  
The Horde has vanished, no doubt retreated cowardly back to the Fright Zone, but something keeps Catra in the gorge, watching Adora’s rescue from a nearby ledge.  
The Rebellion does a fine job at pulling Adora out from under the pinch of death, and release her from her confinement with a relieved sigh. She’s battered, bruised, and walks with a limp, but she walks away from her close call. Of course she walks, she’s Adora. She could be beaten to within an inch of her life, and would still walk away with a smile on her face, as long as there was still breath in her lungs.  
The evening wind brushes Catra’s grimy face, carrying the laugh of the Rebellion’s relief on its tongue. And although Catra would never admit this to a living soul, the pride she couldn’t conjure at the possibility of Adora’s death, swells in her chest at the sight of her life.  
In the security of privacy and solitude, Catra lets the relief of Adora’s safety cover her like a warm blanket, and she smiles.

  
She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This idea came to me late at night thanks to insomnia. I thought about what Catra would choose to do if Adora's life was in her hands, and what her thought process would be like in making that decision. Obviously, this takes place before season 5, and all of that wonderful therapy Catra finally gets. I hope you guys enjoyed, and I would really, really appreciate it if you let me know your thoughts and criticisms in the comments! Kudos are also heavily appreciated ;)


End file.
